Bittersweet
by peppermint.raichu
Summary: My take on the Bellamort romance tragedy, done in three parts. It spans from the first meeting to their deaths, focusing mostly on Bellatrix. Please review!
1. Part 1

**August 14, 1970**

The words from dinner were still burning in her pale ears.

How dare he. How dare he!

Upstairs in her bedroom, she had already broken two mirrors. The shattered glass lay strewn about the hardwood bedroom floor. It reflected the elegant furniture, thick curtains, and stacks of books. In the months she had been here, she did her best to make it as much like her old room as possible. The mirrors, however, were a gift and as such could be easily destroyed.

The grip on her wand was so tight that for a moment she was worried she was going to snap it. But instead of easing up, she flung a book into the air, and exploded it mid-flight. The smoldering shreds of parchment scattered over the hardwood floor, and she crushed them with her black boots. Spinning her head around, she could see nothing else she could break and then repair. She threw her wand aside and collapsed on her bed screaming into her satin pillow.

* * *

><p>They were having a nice family dinner, the four of them. Cygnus and Rudolphus had business to attend to later that evening, and it had seemed the perfect opportunity for the four to catch up. She had not been particularly thrilled on the idea. Not that she still held a grudge against her parents for the arranged marriage—she had gotten over than in her fourth year of school. She simply felt as though she had nothing to say to them.<p>

Mr. and Mrs. Black had arrived promptly at a quarter past seven, Apparating a few meters away from the small estate. She had greeted her parents politely, and even smiled some when her father remembered to bring the book she had asked for from his library. After throwing the book at an unsuspecting house elf and demanding that it be brought to her room, the four moved to the dining room.

The conversation, much to her surprise, had not been that bad. Her husband and father talked politics while her mother recounted in near-excruciating detail how Cissy took the news of her arranged marriage to the Malfoy boy.

"And of course we can't forget your help in this, Bella dear," her mother had said as the salad course was being cleared away.

Bellatrix nodded. "He has promise. And Cissy seems to like him well enough."

Even though the boy, Lucius Malfoy, had only been in his fourth year when Bellatrix was in her seventh, she had seen enough of him to know he would be good for her sister. He was a strong, even by her standards. And Cissy seemed smitten with him.

From across the table, she met eyes briefly with Rudolphus. She glared and he looked away.

And the conversation had continued through the main course, and it was not until dessert and coffee were half gone that it happened.

"What book did you bring her, Cygnus?" Rudolphus asked, careful not to look at his wife as he did so.

Cygnus drank the last of his coffee, and a house elf scurried to refill it. "Advanced Occlumency, if you can believe it. She's actually quite skilled at it, as well as Legilimency."

The words were a compliment, but she took no pride in them. Recently, her father had felt the need to talk about all of her magical accomplishments like that, using phrases such as 'if you can believe it' and 'surprisingly enough.'

Rudolphus sneaked a look at Bellatrix and saw the small flash of unhappiness on her face. "Oh, I can," he replied with a chuckle. "She's fairly skilled, for a witch."

And there it was.

"Ah yes," her father had agreed, "For a witch."

She could not hold back any longer. "Tell us, Rudolphus," she began, not even flinching as the room became silent. "How's your study of Occlumency going? Oh, that's right, you can't do it."

"Bella!" Druella moved to put a frail hand on her daughter to calm her, but Bellatrix batted it away impatiently.

Her father stood. That had never been a good sign. "Now Bella, you forget your place."

"I'm sorry, father," Bellatrix shot back, standing as well. "I thought my husband's incompetence was a rather well known fact."

Rudolphus remained seated, as did Druella.

In the silence, her father drew his wand. She copied him.

"We've been over this," her father said, keeping his tone steady. But Bellatrix was not listening to his words. Instead, she kept her eyes on his face, the way the muscles around his mouth twitched, and tried to see what was beyond his dark, impenetrable eyes. That was where the Blacks kept their emotions. "You must respect your husband."

"I refuse to give my respect to anyone that does not deserve it."

Their wands were pointed at each other now.

"Now, Cygnus, why don't you just—"

He cut his wife off. "Stay out of this, Druella."

She obeyed.

"He is your husband, which is reason enough for him to deserve your respect." Cygnus moved his wand faintly.

"No!"

That was the only word that she could say before her father cut in.

"Crucio!"

Her agonized cries rang out through the dining room. Her mother sat there. Her husband smirked. Her father kept her under the curse for a full minute. When he finally let go and put his wand back, her face was bright red and soaked with tears.

She lay on the floor where the curse had left her, as her husband said goodbye to her parents. Her father ordered her mother to return home, and the two of them left to attend their business meeting, as her father called it.

* * *

><p>And now here she was, lying on her bed and crying some more. They had only been gone five minutes, and already she was here. Taking a deep breath, Bellatrix sat up on the king sized bed and brushed the stray, black locks out of her face. Technically, it was the master bedroom, but when Rudolphus failed to please her on their wedding night, she had cursed him so badly that he now slept solely in the guestroom—that is, when he slept at home. Not that his infidelities bothered her in the slightest. It was not only his lack of magical prowess that did not deserve her respect.<p>

She stood off the bed, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. Blacks did not cry, and she knew that. But at only twenty one years of age, stuck in a loveless marriage, and still adjusting to her lack of freedom, it was hard not to. From the moment she married Rudolphus seven months ago, her father had adopted him as the son he never had. It did not matter that Rudolphus was ugly as a toad, had magic than a troll, and could never produce an heir—he was a male, and that was what counted.

Her face contorted into a sneer.

"I'll show them," she mumbled to herself. "I'm just as good as any man."

Seven minutes later, she was there. Her black hair was cautiously pulled back under the hooded cloak, so that not even one voluminous strand would escape. She kept the hood low, not that it mattered. Every wizard there, save for one, was hooded just the way she was. And even so, as she approached the ground she stayed in the back, afraid something might give her away.

The location was in a clearing in the woods far north of their estate, a piece of information she had lifted off her husband a week ago using her skill in Legilimency. He had been half drunk at the time, and she had been curious as to where this important business was being held. That, and she never missed a chance to use her ability on her good for nothing husband.

Luckily, she was not the last to arrive. A few more wizards appeared after her, standing around her and illuminated only by the light of the full moon. Bellatrix resisted the urge to tap her foot. A cold breeze picked up, ruffling her robes. What was so important about this meeting in the forest anyway? She had been looking forward to gloating to her husband about her accomplishment, but if this was all it was, it was not worth it.

And then he appeared.

The group bowed when he arrived, and she did so as well. Once up, her eyes grew wide. Even from her view under the cloak, he was impressive. Tall, broad shoulders, pale skin, with a nose that looked slightly squashed down and ears that were just a fraction too small. He had jet black hair, which seemed to be thinning, though he skin was pulled to tight on his face to show any wrinkles. And then there were his eyes, dark as her father's, but with something else as well. Red?

She felt weak at the knees.

Then he began speaking. It did not matter what she said, and for the most part she did not listen to the words. It was the way he said them that got her, the way he sounded so entitled to everything, the sheer power he emanated from his very being. A snake appeared halfway through, fat from the hunt, and curled around the man's foot in an almost caressing way. He spoke then to the snake in Parsletongue, and she felt her heart race.

The meeting, or so it seemed to her, was tragically short. He left them all with a message saying that he would tell them the location of the next meeting soon, and then something about a mark that made no sense to her. With the meeting finished and her heart still racing, Bellatrix walked away to give herself some space to Apparate. If she Apparated right back into the master bedroom, Rudolphus would never know.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around sharply. It was him, the one who had been speaking: Lord Voldemort. He smelled like dried blood and potions ingredients.

"You," he said, speaking in that same commanding voice he had earlier, "Are not one of us."

Everyone save for the two of them and his snake had left now.

Bellatrix said nothing.

"Are you scared?" he asked, smiling at the thought. He kept his hand on her shoulder, as if she was thinking of running away. "A spy from the Ministry, perhaps? Lower your hood."

She obeyed immediately, pulling down the rich, black fabric that had covered her face. In doing so, her rebellious hair bounced free, scattering over her shoulders as well as his hand. "Bellatrix Bl…" she caught herself, still not used to her new surname. "Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange."

Voldemort chuckled. He looked into her eyes, and before she could pull herself away from his black and red eyes, she felt the attack on her mind. Quickly, she put up a barrier, but he swiftly knocked through her Occlumency. The invasive feeling of a stranger in her memories made her bite her lip. He was not only invasive, but thorough. Memories from her childhood to the evening's dinner flashed in her mind, all for Voldemort to see.

After what seemed like an eternity of her most painful and humiliating memories, he let her go. She took a step back, but did not fall.

He took his hand off her shoulder, letting it linger for a moment in the black tendrils. "So you are the hellcat Rudolphus has told us about—the one who scared the man out of his own bedroom. Answer me!"

"Yes sir," she said quickly, her tongue falling over the simple words.

Voldemort chuckled again. "Not sir. My lord will be fine. You have a great rage in you, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. I admire that. And yet you lack loyalty, which I am afraid is something I cannot stand."

"I am loyal," she countered, finding speech easier now, "To those who deserve it."

He struck her hard across her face, and sent her stumbling. "You shall not give me your opinion unless I ask for it."

Recovering, Bellatrix stood straight up, and ignored the trickle of blood coming from her cracked lip. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort smiled. He reached a pale hand to her face, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand before wiping the blood away with his finger. "Pure, wizard blood," he said, looking at the red droplets on his hand, before he licked it away. "Nothing else should exist. Do you agree?"

"Yes, my lord," she agreed, nodding.

The snake raised up slightly, putting its head right under Voldemort's hand, looking for attention. He patted the snake on the head twice before saying something to it in the mysterious snake language. "I just told Nagini that I will not need you killed tonight. You are to come to the next meeting. You are not to be late, nor are you to tell anyone that about this. Disobey me and I will kill you. I am a man of my word, Bellatrix Black Lestrange."

She said nothing.

"Very good. You learn quickly. You may leave now, little hellcat."

Bellatrix mumbled a quick thank you, Apparating off before she could find out if that was acceptable or not.

And he haunted her dreams ever since.


	2. Part 2

**November 23, 1981**

It was the smell of the peppermint tea that woke her that cold morning. She turned slightly in the plush blankets, reveling in the feeling of the expensive, warm fabrics against her naked skin. It was strange she could smell the tea, she thought, blinking open her coal black eyes. She could have sworn that she had fallen asleep on the other side of the bed.

But as Bellatrix sat up, careful as she could to not disturb the mattress, she saw indeed that she was on the other side of the king size bed, and next to the bedside table with the silver tea tray. It was an elegant tray, polished to perfection so that every detail of the engraving showed. On it stood two silver cups, polished in the same fashion and gently steaming. His was on the left, and hers on the right. It would be too hot to drink for the next minute or two she knew, and that was how they liked it.

"You rose before me."

It was an assertion, not a chastisement.

"Tea's here," she replied, wishing she could take a sip. No, it would still be too hot.

He did not yawn, or stretch, or blink his eyes. He simply adjusted himself so that he was sitting up, his lap covered by the black blankets that drew strict lines against his white flesh. Her eyes looked him over. In the last ten years, he appeared to not have aged a day. His skin was still as pale and smooth as the day she met. And yet she had matured, wearing the marks of her age as best as she could.

And if he had any complaints, she never heard them. Even after the last three years, it still boggled her mind. Lord Voldemort, most powerful dark wizard in the world and on the verge of conquering it, naked on her bed.

Being this close to him had initially made her mark burn like fire, but she had adjusted. Now, the burn was more of a tingle. Whether or not the pain had subsided or she had simply grown to endure it, she did not care. After seven, grueling years of fighting her way up the ranks, past idiots like Crabbe, McNair, and even her own brother in law, she was now on top. The best and only female Death Eater.

* * *

><p>He had given her the mark on her twenty third birthday—his idea of a present.<p>

The meeting that night had been held at her parents' estate. Before he had hinted about what might happen, she had considered asking permission to miss this meeting, for something else she could do instead. He knew she was loyal; he had probed her mind enough times to be sure of that. He knew every detail of her mind.

But he had also insisted that she come, claiming that she would not want to miss it.

They gathered, uncloaked, in the opulent living room. Extra furniture had been brought in from other rooms to accommodate all of the guests, and Bellatrix found herself sitting in the back on her mother's settee. It reeked of her perfume.

The meeting progressed in the usual fashion with a recount of their goals, who had accomplished what, and how many had had been killed. The last was her personal favorite part. And some point, Nagini had slithered in, fat from dinner. It curled up by its master's feet, and it filled Bellatrix with green jealousy. She hated that damned snake, and the way it could just lay close to the lord without asking permission. Bellatrix spent the next part of his speech imaging she was that snake.

"And now," Voldemort spoke, changing his tone in a way that pulled Bellatrix from her fantasy, "There is to be a special event this evening. One of our younger members shall be receiving the mark."

Hardly hushed whispers took over the room.

"It is time," He continued, voice easily transcending the whispers, "For this member to be rewarded for their loyalty."

The whispers continued, and in the midst of them Bellatrix saw Lucius stand. She frowned—of course it was him. Lucius, blonde wisp of a boy that he was, had eagerly joined up as soon as it was offered to him by his father, already a marked member. Lucius said he was interested in being on the 'winning side' as he had called it. He had also mentioned some nonsense about doing it for Cissy that made no sense to her. Then again, the last thing she had tried to do for her husband was kill him.

"What are you doing, boy? Sit down!" Voldemort snapped, glaring at Lucius with his black and red eyes. As Lucius mumbled something Bellatrix could only assume was an explanation and an apology, he sat. Only now did Bellatrix wish she had a seat closer to the front. Lucius expression, she bet, must have been priceless.

Calming down, Voldemort examined the room. It was silent now, as everyone in the room tried to figure out exactly who the lord was talking about. Certainly there were no other young and promising members. With an evil smirk, Voldemort continued. "No, Malfoy, not your son. I speak tonight of Bellatrix Black Lestrange."

She couldn't breath.

He extended his hand out, beckoning her up to the front. Quickly as she could, Bellatrix moved through the tightly packed chairs, couches, and stools to stand in front of Voldemort.

"Thank you, my lord," she said softly yet audibly, her eyes furiously examining the carpet underneath her feet, unwilling to look into his eyes.

There was the sound of someone standing, and she turned around to see who it was.

It was her father. "My lord, you can't be serious," Cygnus said. "Letting such an unskilled one into your ranks when there are so many more worthy. So many more who are," Cygnus stumbled over his tongue for a moment, "Not a woman!"

A few people let out gasps, in shock that someone had talked back to Lord Voldemort.

"Yes, Black," Voldemort spoke slowly, "I know all too well of your opinions on your daughter. And now that you have been so kind as to make them known to the rest of my followers as well, I think it is now clear that there is no place for you in our ranks." He took out his wand. "Bellatrix, show me your left forearm."

She scrambled to obey; ripping off the black arm covering that concealed the pale flesh of her arm and turning it so that was presented as he asked.

"Kneel and watch."

Again, she obeyed quickly, almost falling. Kneeling on the carpet with her left forearm out, she craned her neck to see what would happen.

"Avada Kedavra!"

In a flash of green light, her father fell down dead. The crowd made noise and moved away, but Bellatrix was too distracted by the searing pain in her arm. She held it steady as she could, eyes scrunched closed. Bellatrix opened them for a moment, looking up and seeing her lord carving the mark into her arm with his wand, drawing in each detail like a master painter, from the skull to the snake's head. It looked as though it had more detail than the other marks she had seen, more care.

When the ritual was finally over she collapsed on the floor, only to be suddenly jerked to her feet by Voldemort himself.

"Let this be a lesson to you," he whispered in her ear, making shivers run down her spine. "I do reward loyalty. I have just killed your father and marked you for eternity as my servant."

"Thank you, my lord."

* * *

><p>"You're reminiscing," Voldemort asserted.<p>

Bellatrix's eyebrows furrowed. "Stay out of my mind!"

The outburst that would have earned her a physical reprimand in public was tolerated now with only a chuckle. "I had to know what you were thinking, with that somber expression on your face."

Her face softened. It was impossible to stay mad at her master, and she never truly tried to. She turned to the tea tray, and picked up the cup on the left, handing it gingerly to Voldemort. He took it with a nod of thanks, and sipped the contents slowly. Bellatrix did the same with hers, ignoring the growing hunger in her stomach. He did not need to eat, and so she did not like to eat around him. The tea he drank as a comfort for her.

The taste of the peppermint tea slithered down her throat. She had always hated it, until he had suggested it one morning. It was bitter and left her mouth feeling numb, and yet she could not turn down the opportunity to do something so sensual as drink the same drink and taste the same taste that her lord did.

He finished the tea after she did, and handed the cup back to her.

"You're going to need more than tea today, my Bella. I have plans for today."

She nodded. He had seemed on edge last night, his mind elsewhere. As much as she had wanted to, she had resisted the urge to use her skills on his mind. Generally, they left each other's minds alone. "Yes, my lord?"

"Today, I go to kill the Potters."

"Today?" He never told her his plans until the day of, as a security precaution. In case she was captured, it limited what she could be forced to say. "You'll let me come with you?"

He shook his head, slightly disturbing his thin, black hair. "No. I must go alone. I already have the information to get past their defenses myself."

"But—"

He glared at her. "Are you insinuating that I need you to protect me when I go to kill a filthy Mudblood family and their brat?"

Bellatrix blushed and looked away. Of course she was not worried about him. Had it been a year ago, perhaps, but not now, for a year ago he had told her about his accomplishments with the Horcruxes, how he split his soul and was thus immortal. They were great sacrifices he had made long before he had met her, in order to make sure his goals were seen through to the end.

With her extensive readings on the Dark Arts, Bellatrix also knew the implications such soul splitting would have on a person and their emotions. And yet she kept her mind focused on the positives, about how her lover would never die, despite the constant battles.

Shaking his head slowly, Voldemort reached out to stroke her hair. It stood wilder than usual, its condition worsened by last night's activities. He then pulled her close to him, so that their flesh touched. She did not move, letting him hold her as close as he dared.

"Fret not, my Bella," he said softly, stroking her hair once more. "I have a special treat planned for you."

She moved to get a better look at him when he said that, using it also as a chance to push her body closer to his. He was hardly warm.

"You are to go and have some fun with the Longbottoms. They have become rather irritating, and need to be eliminated."

"Anything else?"

He tangled a finger in her hair. "Yes. Have fun with it. I know how you love to play with your food before you eat it. I expect only the most interesting account of their demise when I return from my duties today."

Bellatrix nodded softly, daring to let her head rest against his shoulder. He did not move away. "Of course, my lord. Anything for you."

He let her rest on him for a moment longer, before gently untangling himself from her and getting up. Bellatrix stayed in the bed, feeling what little warmth of his there was still left in the satin sheets and still enjoying the smell of blood and dark magic—his smell.

"And one more thing," Voldemort added, picking up his robes from the bedroom floor. "Take Rudolphus along, and see if you can't get him framed for it all. He's too useful for me to simply kill, but," His eyes looked into Bellatrix's, and yet he did not enter her mind, "If he were to be caught by the Ministry and imprisoned, I can't say that I would care."


	3. Part 3

**May 2, 1998**

The meeting had just finished, and the Death Eaters were leaving the dining room in total silence. The words that had just been spoken lingered in the air.

_"No one is to be left alive."_

_"Burn it to the ground."_

_"All those caught retreating will face instant death."_

Only she lingered.

She was forty seven and looked every minute of it. Wrinkles stained the corners of her eyes, and grey streaks plagued her hair. She felt heavy, despite her small frame, and constantly tired, as if she could never get enough sleep. Of course she couldn't, with the nightmares of Dementors and Azkaban haunting her sleep whenever she slept alone. After fifteen consecutive years in that hell hole of a prison, it was to be expected.

* * *

><p>Her mark had started burning.<p>

Half-hidden under her Azkaban rags, she did not notice it at first. The mark, once so dark and vibrant, had faded to nothing more than a light scar over the past decade and a half. At times, in the dark light, she thought she could not even see it any more, and would press her left forearm right against her face in order to pick out the faint details that were still there.

She did her best to keep it was visible as possible. Despite the sordid conditions of her stone cell, she kept the mark as clean as she could, using some of her water rations each time to wipe the dirt and grime away. He could come back at any moment, she knew, and when he did she did not want him to think that she had disrespected his gift.

The lack of water did not bother her.

Occasionally, she received extra food, or even a blanket when the weather turned cold. She never saw who found a way to deliver these things to her, but she always had a suspicion that it was a Malfoy house elf. It was tempting to believe in the beginning that it was her brother in law, showing sympathy to her in order to keep in the Dark Lord's favor. Believing that would mean that there was information on the outside speaking to her lord's return. But as the years wore on, she resigned herself to the fact that it was her sister looking out for her, manipulating Lucius in that subtle and woman-like way that Bellatrix had never quite mastered.

Beyond its original intent, the occasional acts of kindness helped to keep her sane. Unlike memories that the Dementors could feed off and destroy, having physical reminders of happy memories were better than chocolate for her. And if things ever got too bad, she would simply look at what was left of her beloved mark—the physical proof that her lord had left her with of their life together.

He would come back.

He had to come back.

She believed it more than she believed anything else.

And then, fifteen years later, he did.

* * *

><p>"Why don't you leave with the others, Bellatrix?"<p>

Her full name cut her like a knife.

"I was hoping to have a moment alone with you, my lord."

He looked away, and she kept her eyes on him. After learning what he had been through, she understood it, but at first it had shocked her. The white skin, the sunken in facial features, and the lack of hair…he looked like a hyperbolized version of his former self. Part of it she blamed on Peter. Surely it must have been the sacrifice from his unworthy body that had prevented her master from returning to his former self. Had she been able to, she would have given a much better sacrifice.

Voldemort ran a hand along the top of Nagini's head, still looking away. "Whatever for?"

Getting up from her chair at the middle of the long dinning table, she took a few steps towards him. His temperament had been off lately, unpleasant even. And while their relationship had never returned fully to its former glory, only over the last year had he grown this distant. "You're pushing me away," Bellatrix asserted, bracing herself.

Finally, he looked at her. He looked at her with those eyes, red as fire, which simply made her heart melt. Voldemort frowned. "And what if I am?" He did not chastise her for speaking out of turn, or for asserting himself.

She took another step closer, and then another one, until she sat down in the chair to the right of his at the head of the table. "Why can't you tell me what's wrong?"

* * *

><p>Back at the Malfoy Manor, Cissy had taken care of her. Cissy was so much of a mother, Bellatrix had noted, in a way that she herself would never be. Cissy bathed her, dressed her in clean clothes, and fed her, all the while telling Bellatrix of what she had missed in the world, and especially about Draco.<p>

"You have a nephew," Cissy had told her, glowing with pride at the accomplishment.

"An heir," Bellatrix had replied, nodding slowly.

For the next week her sister took care of her, healing her wounds, untangling her wild hair, and feeding her foods she had forgotten even existed. She slept in a comfortable bed, with plenty of pillows, and by Thursday she even had her wand back. But there was still something missing.

"I demand to see him." Bellatrix had announced to her sister Saturday afternoon, after a tea of scones and Early Grey tea. "I am well enough now."

Her sister had simply sighed and looked away, and Bellatrix knew she was hiding something. "He'll be here tonight," she said finally. "I will see what Lucius can do."

"And why not you!" Demanded Bellatrix, suddenly shouting in a way that surprised even herself. "Don't tell me that you were not deemed loyal enough to enter his prestigious ranks!"

"Loyalty was not the issue, Bellatrix," her sister said calmly, as if talking to a child taken by a tantrum. "You are the only female he ever issued the mark to."

That had calmed her down considerably.

* * *

><p>Voldemort reached out and stroked her hair. "I cannot tell you I am sorry, because I do not feel sorry for my actions." He pulled his hand back.<p>

She sat there, perplexed by his words and his eyes. "Don't you…"

"Don't I what?" He scoffed. "Don't I love you any more? Silly girl, you know I never loved you."

She had known, but she had never heard it before. A pressure grew in the back of her throat.

"Damn you!" He cursed, hitting her hard across the face.

A tear fell from her eye as he hit her, and she allowed the blow to knock her out of the chair and onto the hardwood floor.

"You're pathetic! Hours before the battle I have been planning for years, and you're crying like a baby because I've finally told you something you've known for years. I never told you, but you knew. I saw in your mind that you knew." He stood and walked over to where she lay crying, his black robes sweeping around his bare feet. He drew his foot back as if to kick her, but then stopped.

"You're ruining my plans," he told her, voice ice cold. "I need your power in this battle. I need your loyalty." Voldemort kneeled down until he was sitting, and reached out once again to stroke her hair.

Bellatrix recoiled as if the hand burned her. "Don't touch me!" She looked up, tears still on her face. "Is this my reward for my loyalty, my lord?" She spat out the last two words with as much venom as she could. "I have been nothing but loyal all these years!"

This time when he reached out, she did not move. She knew better than to deny him more than once. Voldemort pulled her closer, putting an arm around her. "You are right, my Bella."

The pet name sounded so forced and yet she did not care.

"You deserve a final reward for your loyalty. Look into my eyes."

Bellatrix obeyed without hesitation.

* * *

><p>Hours later, they were at the final battle.<p>

Bellatrix was skipping around, dueling with a renewed vigor, and had almost just killed that ginger brat. A huge smile was smothered on her face.

And then another ginger stepped into the fray, an old woman, and Bellatrix thought nothing of it.

"Avada Kedavra!"

As she died, her life flashed before her pitch black eyes. Her childhood, her unhappy marriage, her years in prison…and then, finally, memory strange and fuzzy. The last thought she had been thinking, a memory magically looping constantly in her mind. It seemed surreal almost, but she had never questioned it.

_Voldemort reached out and stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, my Bella." He pulled his hand back._

_She sat there, comforted by his words and his eyes. "It's okay…"_

_"Okay?" He scoffed. "It's okay that I haven't been treating you properly? Silly girl, you know how I feel about you."_

_She had known, but she had never heard it before. A pressure grew in the back of her heart._

_"Damn you!" He cursed, pulling her towards him and kissing her on the mouth._

_Her eyes closed as his lips hit hers, and she allowed herself to kiss him back._

_"You're beautiful. Hours before the battle I have been planning for years, and you're worried because I've never told you something you've known for years. I never told you, but you knew. I saw in your mind that you knew." He stood and pulled her up, his black robes sweeping around them. He drew her closer and kissed her once more, but then stopped._

_"Try not to dwell on it," he told her, voice soft as snow. "I need your power in this battle. I need your loyalty." Voldemort kissed her forehead, and reached out once again to stroke her hair._

_Bellatrix leaned into the touch as if he had never touched her before. "Please touch me." She looked up, a smile on her face. "You have always rewarded my loyalty, my lord." She spoke the last two words with as much affection as she could. "I have been nothing but loyal all these years!"_

_This time when he reached out, she did not move. She knew better than to do so more than once. Voldemort pulled her closer, putting both arms around her. "You are right, my Bella."_

_The pet name sounded so forced and yet she did not care._

_"I love you."_

Bellatrix died without questioning it.


End file.
